AEGIS SYNDICATE: unseen shadows

The Vane family residence in the capital of Valencia was less of a home and more of a grand, marble monument to authority. To the rest of the world, Richard and Victoria Vane were the golden power couple of international politics—diplomatic, generous, and flawless. To sixteen-year-old Addie Vane, they were simply the judges who had sentenced her to invisibility from the day she was born. "Addie, move your heavy boots away from the doorway before the press photographer arrives," her mother, Victoria, commanded without looking up from her phone. Her voice was as cold and sharp as polished ice. "Your sister is taking her final photos for the national scholarship feature. We don't need you in the background looking like a stain in her potrait." Addie didn't argue. She stepped back into the dim corner of the grand hallway, adjusting the bridge of her oversized, thick-rimmed glasses. Beneath the baggy, faded navy sweater that swallowed her frame and hid her natural grace, she pulled her arms tightly against her chest. At sixteen, Addie was breathtaking—if anyone ever bothered to look past the intentionally oversized clothes and dark-framed lenses. Her skin was smooth, her features striking, but she had learned early on that being seen in the Vane household only invited trouble. "Coming, Mom!" The light at the top of the marble staircase seemed to shift as Adelle Vane descended. Identical to Addie in height and features, Adelle was everything their parents worshipped. She wore a tailored crimson dress, her hair styled into effortless golden waves. She smiled for the flashing camera lights waiting at the front porch, the picture of warmth and perfection. As Adelle passed her twin in the hallway, the smile vanished instantly. Her eyes narrowed into a familiar, cruel sneer. "Still wearing dad’s old sweaters, parasite?" Adelle whispered, her voice low enough that only Addie could hear as she intentionally bumped her shoulder hard against Addie’s, knocking her back against the wall. "Try not to ruin my celebration today. Everyone knows who the real talent in this family is." Addie adjusted her glasses again, her expression completely unreadable. Adelle was popular, worshipped at school, and surrounded by an army of friends who did her bidding. But behind the glamour lay an ugly, desperate insecurity. Because no matter how many social events Adelle hosted, and no matter how much their parents tried to rig the academic boards in Adelle's favor, Addie’s name always sat firmly, undeniably at the very top of the national merit list. That morning, the results of the National Science Olympiad had been published. Adelle had scored in the ninety-fourth percentile—a score her parents spent thousands of dollars boasting about to the press. Addie had scored a perfect hundred. First place in the entire republic. When the letter had arrived at the house that morning, her father had simply folded it, tossed it into the fireplace, and told Addie that a "quiet girl shouldn't embarrass her sister by seeking the spotlight."